


A Callipygian Nightmare

by justlikedaylightsavingstime



Series: Groovy Underwear in a Callipygian Nightmare [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Paint, Cas has in fact written an ode to Dean's ass, Cas is a little shit, Fluff, Kevin is awesome at sewing fyi, Kisses, M/M, No Smut, Tattooed Dean, Tattoos, That's because it is, and cuddles, body painting, everyone likes to laugh at Dean, it may come across as very silly and ridiculous, it's also quite sappy, neferious use of post-it notes, sleepy!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:39:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7820014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikedaylightsavingstime/pseuds/justlikedaylightsavingstime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Callipygian: having well-shaped buttocks. (adj) [kal-uh-pij-ee-uh n]</p><p>The one where’s Dean’s ass is beautiful, and nobody lets him forget it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Callipygian Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theangelcastiella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangelcastiella/gifts), [Ruby2_0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruby2_0/gifts).



> A follow on from Groovy Underwear, but it can definitely be read as a one shot. Between the two fics I've changed Cas' characterization quite substantially (I mean I did write it two years ago), but I like to think that neither characterization is ooc for canon Cas. Cas is basically a little shit now. There's actually a bit of an unintended plotline parallel if you can pick it up.
> 
> Big thanks to Autumn [[*](http://temptingsammy.tumblr.com/)] [[*](http://biwinsexual.tumblr.com/)] [[*](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruby2_0/pseuds/Ruby2_0)] and Ella [[*](http://sadlyshy.tumblr.com/)] [[*](http://theangelcastiella.tumblr.com/)] [[*](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theangelcastiella/pseuds/theangelcastiella)], who essentially bullied me into writing this (and Autumn was also a big help in writing the 'Ode to Dean's Ass'). It wouldn't exist without them. In fact they even gave me the prompt: "SMELLA AND I REQUIRE A GROOVY UNDERWEAR SEQUEL WITH THE WORD CALLIPYGIAN (which means "having a shapely buttocks"--we learned it from buzzfeed today). DO IT, MINION. <3"
> 
> I do use the term trampstamp, it's not meant to be derogatory (I'm actually playing with the idea of getting the tattoo that Dean has in this myself).
> 
> Fingers crossed you enjoy this utter ridiculousness that has hopefully heralded the banishment of my writer's block.

The darkness seemed to swirl around Castiel without ever touching him. He was cosy and safe in his little blanket cocoon, protected from the invading night by the warm caress of his small lamp. He soon found himself stifling a yawn with one hand, a habit he’d picked up from his funny little humans, even though technically angels didn’t actually get tired. It just seemed to be a physiological response to the fuzzy ambiance that accompanied late night reading. The leather bound cover of the old dictionary in his hand felt soft and worn under his fingertips, evidence that it had been very beloved once upon a time. A memory of Sam gifting him this book with eager smiles and sparkling eyes made the corners of Castiel’s eyes crinkle in a smile. Sam had known it was the perfect gift for the angel.

It was the perfect reading material to keep Cas entertained when Sam and Dean were busy with other things, like sleeping. He loved sounding out all these new and unfamiliar words on his tongue, the foreign syllables echoing into the quiet halls of the bunker into the early hours of the morning whilst the humans lost themselves in dreams. There was something fascinating about which things humans deemed worthy of labelling, and which things were just beyond their comprehension.

A small tilt of the page he was on revealed the words that had previously been covered in shadow. Well look at that. He tapped the page thoughtfully, a smirk springing to his face as he read the definition again. He couldn’t have found a more perfect word if he’d tried. The dictionary was discarded to one side as a pad of paper and a chewed up pencil appeared in Cas’ hand. The pen was twirled through his fingers a few times before a scratching noise heralded Cas’ thoughts being pulled into reality. His smirk grew as he wrote. He couldn’t wait to show Dean. It really was the perfect word.

****

Little did Dean know that a nightmare was fast approaching on the horizon. Although maybe it was less a nightmare than a collection of small nightmarish ‘incidents’. The first incident to kick off this whole chain of disastrous events wasn’t actually all that embarrassing, if Dean was honest.

Cas had been playing about with the paints Sam had bought him almost nonstop. To tell the truth, Cas was absolutely atrocious at painting but he seemed to greatly enjoy it. At least they’d eventually managed to confine the explosion of ‘art’ to one room before the bunker had really had chance to get the ‘a unicorn just crapped everywhere’ aesthetic established.

That one fateful morning, Dean had decided to join Cas in his ‘art studio’ by dragging in a beanbag and plugging into his Walkman so that he could watch Cas work and daydream a little. Just a nice quiet afternoon spending time with his significant other. General sappy couple stuff. Nothing that should raise any red flags. Except that nothing in Dean’s life ever ended up being nice and quiet.

Cas was kinda distracted with Dean in the room. He didn’t really get into painting, intead he was fidgeting and picking stuff up only to stare at it and put it down again. Not that Dean questioned it, life was easier if he just let Cas go at his own pace. Soon enough the angel had his peculiar stare focused on the packaging of his paints as he turned it this way and that. The confused frown was still on his face as he walked over to a dozing Dean and tapped him on the shoulder. Dean totally didn’t jump in the air a little at the unexpected touch, his eyes flashing open in shock. And he totally didn’t squeal either, just to set the record straight (not that he ever really did anything straight).

After tugging off his earphones, Dean said in one of his hoarser tones of voice, “Any particular reason you’re trying to give me a heart attack, Cas?”

In typical Cas fashion, the angel pretty much ignored Dean’s sarcasm (he’d had a lot of practice at it to be fair), instead holding the paint tube out to Dean instead. “This paint says that it is suitable for use on skin contact, and is in fact a highly desirable form of body paint.”

Dean’s face showed nothing short of pure confusion as he said, “And…?”

When Cas just stared back at his nonplussed face, nothing but the slight raising of his eyebrows gave Dean any indication that Cas had heard. Dean wasn’t a stupid man, and that eyebrow raise could only mean one thing. “Yeah, no. That’s not going to happen. Not in this lifetime.”

“But how else am I going to make a fair comparison between paper and skin as canvas materials.” A faux innocent look sprang up on Cas’ face. “I suppose I could ask Sam.”

The little fucker was nowhere near as smooth as he thought he was, but it didn’t stop Dean’s hand shooting out to grab hold of Cas’ arm as he exclaimed, “No! Fine, whatever. I’ll do it. But no rainbows, or butterflies. Or unicorns.”

There was a twinkle in Cas’ eye that left Dean feeling like a fly in a spider’s web. The angel was actually getting surprisingly good at pushing Dean’s buttons, and if he wasn’t so head over heels for the little shit he might have put up more of a fight. As it was, that was it. Dean had jumped in at the deep end. Caught hook line and sinker. Not that he really minded. He had to admit he was kinda curious about what the whole body paint thing felt like

Cas triumphantly turned his back to Dean, obviously rightly assuming that he’d already won. Even as Dean’s stubborn scowl was twisting into a resigned squint the angel was busying himself with picking out exactly which paint colours he wanted.

“Shirt off.” Cas ordered.

At least that was an order that Dean could get behind (I mean, come on, everyone knew he looked fucking awesome with his top off), and he disposed of his shirt with fast precision. He settled himself into position on his front on the floor, carefully pounding the bean bag a few times with his fist to get it into the most comfortable position to rest his head on.

Dean’s Walkman laid forgotten on the floor, and he vaguely noticed that Cas had put ‘their song’ on very quietly on his own radio in the background. Surprisingly enough Dean had got to the point where Groovy Underwear actually seemed sorta serene to him.

He’d actually found a realtively comfy position on the floor, and it was really pleasant to hear Cas humming along with the music. He was a little more apprehensive as he felt Cas straddle him and settle down into position, he wasn’t used to putting himself in such a vulnerable position (at least when it didn’t necessarily involve sex). The click of the paint cap of course required a joke about how he feels like they’d been there before, but Cas just made a shushing sound and a comment about how art required uninterrupted concentration.

The first brush stroke scratched a little, but Cas was a gentle soul and that mostly translated into his brushstrokes. Well, it wasn’t too bad so far. Dean lay there trying not to squirm too much in response to the tickling for several minutes. It turned out it was kinda nice and grounding to have Cas sitting on him and it was easy to find a relaxed headspace to sink into as he let Cas go to work. Minutes ticked by in time to the music and the rhythm of the strokes on his back almost had Dean falling asleep.

In the end it was Cas who interrupted the quiet ambiance. “Why do people do this?”

“I thought you were the one that wanted to do this.”

“I do want to. I was curious as to what it was like to paint on skin. I just don’t know why it’s such a popular pastime.”

“Well, it’s” Dean cleared his throat, there was something about explaining dirty things to Cas that still felt weird even after they’d been together all this time. “It’s intimate, like a massage. A um sexy massage.”

“It’s erotic?”

“It can be.”

“I don’t understand, wouldn’t it be distracting to the painter?” Cas asked, earning a chuckle from Dean.

“Maybe, it depends on how or why you’re doing it. I guess it can be innocent. But I mean it’s quite tactile, and normally humans manage to make anything involving touching turn into sex.”

“I’m well aware.” Dean didn’t need to turn around to hear the teasing tone to Cas’ voice. “But it doesn’t have to be erotic?”

“No Cas, it doesn’t have to be. It can be nice, like this.”

“Good. I like touching you very much, Dean.”

“I like it when you touch me too.” Dean said, glad that for once Sam wasn’t around to snicker at him. “And vice versa.” He sighed into his arm as Cas’ brush ran along a sensitive point on his back.

Focusing more on Cas’ brushstrokes now, Dean concentrated trying to make out a pattern. “What are you painting on me? Are those letters? Are you writing something?”

“Yes. I’m writing the poem I made for you.” Cas sounded so happy about it, and honestly Dean was enjoying the feel of the brush against his skin, and the moments when Cas would touch him here or there, so he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt as Cas started to read it out. He knew from experience he couldn’t stop him even if he wanted to. Besides, not everyone had an angel writing poetry about them. Even if he was using ‘poetry’ in the loosest sense of the term.

_“Oh Dean your curves are luscious_   
_Oh Dean your cheeks are round_   
_There is nothing in the universe_   
_I would spare to kiss those precious mounds”_

There was the quiet clink of the paintbrush against the floor, and soon Dean felt the pads of Cas’ fingertips dancing across his back. God that felt even better than the brush had done.

_“Every inch of you I beg to worship_   
_From flushed cheek to bowed knee_   
_Nothing can I ever deny you_   
_When you share yourself with me”_

He didn’t even notice that Cas’ voice was faltering and becoming distracted, a sure sign that he had caught up to where he’d already painted and was reading each word as he oh-so-carefully and painstakingly painted it.

_“Wherever thine pretty ass wanders_   
_Know that there my hands wander free too_   
_For me there is ne’er a heaven_   
_Except that which I find deep in you”_

Dean let out a sigh as Cas’ palms rolled against the small of his back. He practically melted into the floor and the bean bag, his entire being focused on that glorious feel of Cas’ touch and the occasional brush of Castiel’s lips against the back of his head or his neck. The familiar words were seeming even more genuine and loving than he remembered them (no matter how dirty) as they rolled off Cas’ tongue.

_“There is no more fortunate a being than I_   
_When soft flesh surrenders to mine_   
_Not one speck of your freckled and radiant asscheeks_   
_Can be censured as less than divine”_

“I added another verse. Do you want to hear it?” Cas softly asked, which surprised Dean because as far as he knew that had been the end of the poem.

Dean had basically melted into the bean bag at this stage and could do nothing more than mumble “mmhhmm” into his arm.

_“Many a pirate has given life’s blood_   
_In hopes of magnificent booty_   
_But truly there is no treasure so fine_   
_As the grace of my callipygian beauty”_

After a few moments the words sank in and Dean managed to lift his head up enough to say, “Booty, really? And pirates? I dunno man, that’s kinda cheesy. And what the fuck does callipygian mean?”

“It’s a word I picked up from that dictionary Sam bought me, and it immediately made me think of you. Also, I had no idea the number of bee species there are, I really must thank Sam properly for the encyclopedia. Did you know that killer bees…”

“Yeah, yeah, Cas. I know, bees are awesome. What does callipygian mean?”

“It means ‘having shapely buttocks’, often used to mean having ‘beautiful shapely buttocks’. I just saw it and knew it needed to be in the ‘ode to your ass’, as you so delicately named it.”

Castiel’s weight settled further back as he looked over his handiwork. From the hum in his throat he seemed quite proud of it. He held Dean in place with a soft hold when he tried to move, saying that he needed to stay still until it dried. Dean only put up with it because of the soft caress of Cas’ fingers against his arm. He only had to stay still for a few more minutes, thank God. Cas asked him to hold still a little while longer so he could take a picture, then the whole ordeal was over. Dean was helped to his feet, stretching out his stiff muscles with a crack. He had to admit it was really nice having Cas rubbing his shoulders as he made sure the paint was washed off in the shower.

Dean didn’t complain too much when the picture of his back, complete with all the words (he had no idea what mojo Cas had used to make them all fit on his admittedly muscular back) from the ode to his ass, was stuck up on the fridge next to Cas’ other prized creations. After all, he could hide it when they had people round, and it’s not like Cas hadn’t read it to Sam on multiple occasions already (Dean had to admit he almost felt sorry for the sucker on such occasions).

That’s the story of the first time Dean heard the word ‘Callipygian’, unfortunately it wouldn’t be the last.

****

With the next incident, Dean didn’t get off nearly so easily. They’d had a few friends over for a relaxed movie night (except they never actually got round to watching a movie because it was essentially impossible to bring everyone to a consensus on choices). Dean and Cas had oh-so-subtly snuck away from the main hubbub. Somehow they’d ended up tumbling down onto Dean’s bed with mouths and hands in all sorts of unsavoury places. They managed to get away with it for about fifteen minutes before Charlie had come bouncing into their room, dragging Benny in her wake. Even Charlie’s perkiness wasn’t enough to stop Dean from muttering about how being friends with nerds was worse than having children.

Unlike Dean, Cas seemed to take the interruption with good humor, giving his goofy smile and helping Dean do his jeans back up and get back onto his feet. Of course Cas’ unfazed behavior just made Charlie and Benny laugh harder at Dean’s grumpiness. They left the room after a couple of choice innuendos and Dean decided to cut his loses and follow them back to where everyone else was chilling.

Safe to say that Dean wasn’t expecting it when Cas slapped him hard enough on the ass to make him jump (and not squeal, totally not squeal) a little. The asshole just walked past him, flashing him a quick wink as he followed Benny and Charlie out of the room. After a few moments of grumbling which gave him enough time to collect himself, Dean followed the rest of the guys back to the party, making sure to ruffle Cas’ hair as he caught up to them. Of course that backfired, as Cas didn’t give a shit what his hair looked like and his hair was now mussed up into that bedhead that Dean found nigh on impossible to resist.

Everyone was sprawled out across the living room, empty beer glasses scattered across the room and a tray decorated with a bottle of tequila, a load of shot glasses, a salt shaker, and sliced limes innocently sat on the table. Ah, so it was gonna be one of those nights.

They returned to the room amidst a clamour of catcalls and wolf whistles. Cas seemed completely nonplussed as he sunk down on the floor next to where Anna was sitting, resting his head on her lap. Dean took the more mature route of flipping everyone off (and he wasn’t blushing, he was still just a bit warm from the steamy makeout session that had been so rudely interrupted).

There was a seat free next to Sam which he took full use of, sprawling out and angling his elbow to get a whiney ‘Dean’ from Sam. He’d just managed to get his feet positioned on the table to ensure maximum comfort and maximum irritation for his brother when Cas caught his eye.

“Honey, would you go get me a beer.”

“Really Cas, you wait until I sit down? Sammy’ll do it.” To emphasise his point Dean rubbed Sam’s hair.

“Please, Dean. I’ll make it worth your while later.” Cas said with that same geeky wink he’d used not five minutes earlier. Dean was really gonna have to teach the guy how to wink properly one of these days. Then again, it was kinda cute.

The glint in Cas’ eye, or the barely contained smile on his lips, should have been warning enough for Dean. But apparently he’s sentimental when it comes to anything rhyming with ass. So like the sucker he is, he rolled his eyes and stood up. Which turned out to be an instant mistake.

Sam was the first one to get a good look, and his guffaw soon had everyone’s attention. Dean was halfway to the kitchen before the range of giggles and cackles had him pausing on his journey.

Jo said “What does callie-pig-ian mean?”

“Why yes, Dean. What does Callipygian mean?” Sam repeated Jo’s words with a smirk on his face, causing the room to burst into another fit of laughter.

Cas, the kind soul that he was, was generous enough to give Jo her answer. In his most serious and gravelly of voices he said, “It means ‘having well-shaped buttocks’.”

At that point pretty much everyone in the room lost it. It seemed like everyone in the room had caught onto the joke while Dean was stood there scratching his head. He had an awful idea it had something to do with him and the painting session the other day.

“Well it’s certainly not wrong” Jo’s appreciative voice announced from behind him as he turned round to discover that her eyes were carefully following the movement of his backside. Dean fixed her with a glare even as Charlie smacked her girlfriend playfully on the shoulder.

“There’s only one person’s butt you should be admiring, and that’s mine. Although it is rather shapely.” Charlie begrudgingly admitted.

“What are you talking about? Tell me right this instant or I’m gonna…make sure that not a single one of you fuckers gets so much as the wiff of a burger all night.” There was nothing that pissed off Dean more or made him more paranoid than people laughing at him. Particularly when he had no idea what they were actually laughing at. Unfortunately his outburst only seemed to encourage the teasing. Luckily Anna was prepared to take some kind of pity on him.

“Here, sweetie.”

He felt the brief brush of a thumb against the cheek of his butt before it was quickly removed. He spun round again (like a bloody spinning top at this point) to find the culprit. The smile on Anna’s face was kinder, but no less mocking that the others. In her hand rested one of Cas’ bright neon pink heart post-it notes. And written in the most delicate black in across the paper was one word. A word that seemed to be haunting Dean lately. Callipygian.

And that had been stuck on his ass. For all his friends to see. It didn’t take him more than a minute or two of spluttering to put two and two together. The uncharacteristic slap on his ass. The cheeky wink. Castiel was gonna be lucky to make it to the end of the day with his life intact. The angel even had enough cheek to smile innocently at him when Dean raised his eyebrow at him incredulously. As all his friends continued to revel in gayety at his expense, Dean felt a scowl settling on his face. And at this point, everyone knew him well enough that the only person it sobered up was Kevin, and even he picked his grin back up as soon as Dean’s back was turned.

Dean glanced round the room, looking for a potential ally. He thought he was saved when Benny opened his mouth, but quickly realised he was counting his chickens as Benny declared in his thick accent, “I guess that makes you sweetcheeks then, doesn’t it, sugar.”

That was it. Dean was done with this whole thing. He didn’t even bother tackling Benny, he hit the problem right at its head.

“You little shit!” Cas seemed to anticipate Dean’s lunge before even Dean did, and he was up on his feet faster than a cat that’s sniffed out a dog. In a few seconds he had pulled Anna up onto her feet and had strategically placed himself behind her (even if there wasn’t really all that much of her to hide behind).

“You really think your sister’s gonna save you?” Dean asked, circling around Anna. Cas likewise mirrored Dean’s movements, careful to keep his human shield in between them. Dean soon got bored of the game of cat and mouse and dove straight for Cas. Except Cas was already gone, gracefully jumping over the back of the couch and he was off. Dean was impeded slightly as he tripped over the same couch but he was soon back on his feet and chasing after the fucker, yelling expletives the entire time.

Somehow, the minute Dean landed on Cas and pinned him on the floor, it became a free for all. The only warning they got was Sam’s voice yelling ‘pile on’ before 6’4” of moose fell ontop of his back. It took a good few minutes and lots of giggling before everyone was piled up on the floor. Of course Dean bore the brunt of the weight on his back and arms, not wanting to crush Cas’ lungs. Cas might be an angel, but that shit was still painful.

There was a moment of just heavy breaths of laughter and groans as everyone found their entire bodies being crushed and then Dean’s voice rang out. “I hate you all!”

To be fair to Cas, he was pretty quick on the draw as he replied, “That’s not what the erection digging into my hip suggests.”

This was quickly followed by a load of “ewwws” as people began frantically pushing and shoving as they tried to make a hasty retreat from the pile on. Soon all that was left on the floor was Cas, with Dean leaning over him. Cas shrugged at the glare Dean gave him. “What? It was the most efficient way of getting them to move.”

“I don’t have a fucking boner!” Dean yelled as he stormed into the kitchen. By the time he’d cooled off and returned, he’d brought with him the beer for Cas. Very maturely, Dean had decided to take the high ground and pretend the incident never happened. It seemed like a good idea to move the party on a little, anything to forget the whole post-it note thing. “Why don’t we get started on the shots?”

“Anything for our Callipygian beauty.” Came Benny’s dry reply, quickly followed by Jo.

“So long as he doesn’t get another boner.”

Dean leaned over to pour himself a rather sizeable shot. “Have I ever told you how much I hate you all?”

Cas’ hand rested against his back as he leant forward to snag a shot for himself, somehow managing to place himself in a good position to kiss Dean’s cheek. “Now, now, it was only a bit of fun.”

When Cas was finally out of arms reach, he turned to survey the room and held his glass high. “To our Callipygian beauty.”

Dean rolled his eyes and poured himself another shot.

It didn’t help either that when they were shooing everyone out of the house the next morning, Kevin had something very loud to shout to everyone from the kitchen. “What’s this picture on the fridge. Wait, Dean is that you? Why are you topless. Is that…poetry?”

Dean didn’t even have a moment to curse before everyone had bundled into the kitchen, hooting over the photo that he’d completely forgotten to hide. As he entered the kitchen he was greeted by Jo loudly reciting, “In hopes of magnificent booty, But truly there is no treasure so fine, As the grace of my callipygian beauty.”

All Dean could think to mutter was, “Callipygian, my ass.”

“Yes, my point exactly, Dean.” Cas’ speedy response had everyone in stiches and ensured that everyone refused to leave until Cas did an energetic rendition of his “Ode to Dean’s Ass”.

At that moment in time there was nothing Dean regretted more than encouraging Sam to buy Cas that fucking dictionary.

****

The thing about being a hunter is that it tends to involve a lot of early mornings. And Dean isn’t always the most observant when he’s wrestling his jeans on in the dark at asscrack o’clock. In fact, it normally takes a long boiling shower, a massive greasy plate of food, and a few cathartic insults thrown at Sam before Dean can even properly open his eyes when he’s expected to function first thing in the morning.

And so if a certain someone, (say a certain AP student who doubles up as a prophet and has a certain knack with a needle), under the influence of a certain other someone (most likely a redhead with a penchant for making paper fortune tellers) takes it upon themself to modify the back pocket of Dean’s jeans then there’s very little chance of him picking up on it.  
He managed to drive all the way to the haunted house they were casing, obnoxiously show his superiority over Sam by playing his music super loud, spend a good hour getting his ass handed to him by a bunch of ghosts, and place the final rune for their reaper summoning spell, before he had any indication that there might be something wrong with his wardrobe.

And that indication came in the form of a comment from the one and only Billie (because with his luck, who else was it gonna be?). Her very words were, “Feeling rather confident in your assets there, Winchester!”

He’d only been able to gormlessly reply with an eloquent “What?”

“Your ass design?”

“My what?”

“Callipygian. I’d have thought it was too big a word for you, but there you go.” And with that Billie disappeared into the aether with nothing more than a chuckle.

Dean hadn’t been bendy enough to check it out for himself, but there happened to be some mirrors in the haunted house that could show him the horror that had been visited upon his ass in high definition. There on the back of his jeans, in a stich so neat that Dean was a little bit begrudgingly impressed, were the beautifully sewed letters that combined to make up Dean’s new least favorite word. Callipygian.

Very funny. Very fucking funny, he muttered to himself. Murder was definitely brewing somewhere on the horizon. It all stemmed from that stupid post it note, and someone was going to pay as soon as he got back.

To be fair to Sam, he only laughed for about ten minutes straight and was enough of a gentleman not to mention it on the rest of the ride home. Just because he immediately managed to track Charlie and Kevin’s hiding place down as soon as he got home so he could congratulate them on a plan well executed didn’t mean that he hadn’t tried to be nice earlier.

After realizing that he couldn’t find any of his prime suspects, Dean put his energy into hunting down the big bad source of all his trouble. At least, if nothing else, Cas had certain ways of comforting him in a non-PG way that no one else could manage. Judging by the genuine look of surprise, and then badly hidden amusement, when Dean showed Cas the offending pocket, the angel hadn’t been part of the sinister plot. Not that Dean wasn’t totally ready to lay the blame where it was due.

“This is your fault.” Dean glared accusingly at Cas. “You and your stupid poetry and your stupid dictionary and your stupid post-it notes!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Cas said, trying to hide the smile on his face as he softly placed a kiss on the tip of Dean’s nose. “Why don’t I kiss it better?”

Cas hands slipped round to cover the offending jean pocket, as well as the pocket on the other side. Despite Dean’s annoyance, Cas could still feel the hunter smile against his own lips. “Well if you feel like it would help.”

****

Everything was awful. Literally everything had turned to shit. Because that’s what happened in Dean’s life. He was incapable of having anything good because he just ruined everything he touched. And damn, Cas was good. In fact, Cas was the best fucking thing that had ever happened to him (barring maybe all the times Sammy had come back to him after escaping certain death). He was just so soft and squishy and yet strong and stalwart and he had the biggest heart and Dean actually coveted those little eye crinkles more than anything else in the world. Oh and that bedhead. Dean could just sit running his hands through that silken mess for the rest of his goddamn life. Wait, why was he fighting with Cas again?

It was almost as if a giant lightbulb had lit up above his head. Dean grinned to himself as he slammed his shot glass decisively onto the bar (the effect was lost a little as he missed the bar and essentially smashed the shot glass on the floor). But the grumbling of the bartender and the rough hands of the bouncers made no impact on Dean. He knew exactly how to fix this entire mess. There was only one totally infallible, utterly sensible, and truly Dean plan that he could follow.

He was only rolling around in the gutter for about ten minutes before he managed to stumble to his feet. The journey was a bit of a blur, he couldn’t really remember much more than leaning against walls and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. He was actually kinda impressed that he managed to find that dingy alley that he’d spotted earlier, but that bright flashing neon light couldn’t lie. Somehow he managed to find his way through the right door, and was soon talking to a girl with an impressively uninterested expression on her face. He vaguely made out the papers thrust in front of him as he scribbled his name in a drunken scrawl, and then he was moving again.

All he could remember after that was a bright light, cold plastic coated fingers and a vague sensation of a pin prick against his skin as he cushioned his face into the scratchy material of the dentist style chair underneath him. Then there was the faint echo of an angry voice, warm touches, and home. Just the whole aroma of home.

It was safe to say that when Dean sprang into wakefulness the next morning, he wasn’t feeling too smart. His stomach was the first thing that grabbed his attention, he had that hard knot which meant that at one point or another last night was gonna be coming back up to haunt him. It didn’t help that for some reason he was laid on his stomach. And of course his head was pounding. He blinked open his eyes to discover that he must have cried a lot last night to have that much sleepdust in them. It turned out to be too much effort to keep them open, so he closed them again. At least it stopped the ringing in his head from being so loud.

Slowly in between vast waves of self pity and pain, fractions of memories from the previous night came flooding in. Coming home in a pissy mood to find that Cas had left a burger wrapper in the front of his baby. Shouting at Cas. Shouting really really loudly at Cas. Really nasty shit too. Something about how he was awful to live with and was like a baby, incapable of cleaning up after himself, and that Dean was done with being a babysitter.

Shit. Did he really say all that? God he’d fucked up. He’d fucked up big time. And then he remembered driving, and beer, and whiskey, and tequila and god knows what else. Something about a neon sign and a trenchcoat. Dean was way too hungover for this shit. He groaned lowly in his chest, the movement making his stomach stir again. As soon as he pushed himself up to go find a toilet he could hug there was a tight pain running across his lower back. He grunted, falling back onto the bed.

“Careful.” A clipped voice came from the doorway. A voice he knew all too well, and one he wasn’t sure he was ready to face. Half of Dean just wanted him to fling himself at his boyfriend and let Cas look after him, the other half of him wanted to curl up and a ball and forget the awful things he’d done and said yesterday. In the end he settled for the middle ground.

“Cas.” Even to his own ears Dean’s voice sounded dry and raspy.

That same pain sprang up on his back as he tried to turn round to catch sight of his boyfriend. “I wouldn’t move too much if I were you.”

“What…” a cough scraped up Dean’s throat. “What happened?”

“That would be a long story, and I’m not sure I’ve got the patience or the temperament to relay it right now without smiting you.”

After spending several unsuccessful seconds trying to help himself up in a very pathetic way, Cas eventually came over to give him a hand. Gritting his teeth through his pain, the two of them finally managed to get Dean vertical. Dean could only enjoy the feel of Cas’ arms around him for a second before he was halfway across the room. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna...”

He’d never run so fast for a toilet in his entire life. He dove onto his knees and curled his arms over the toilet seat, trying to find a position that didn’t stretch the skin on his back.

After a few minutes there, when he thought he was home free, his pissed off boyfriend decided to show his displeasure. Cas poked his head around the door and icily said, “You know, there's a really good hangover remedy, it's a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray.”

Even as Dean was hurled upon round two, cursing Cas name and his own existence, he couldn’t find it in himself to blame the bastard. Cas had a right to get some ownback, and he had learnt from the best after all.

Dean left the bathroom feeling sorry for himself and even sorrier for Cas. Despite the obvious air of pure fury following Cas around, when Dean returned to his room he found a fresh glass of ice water and some asprin waiting for him on his bedside table. Which of course just made him feel likeeven more of a dickhead. He sat down on the bed and made sure to down the water and the pills before even glancing at where Cas was standing by the window with an unusually straight posture and trembling hands.

“I’m sorry I was such an ass.”

“What particular form of assery are you referring to? Was it you belittling me, suggesting that I’m nothing less than a burden to you, some childish thing that needs caring for? Or maybe it was you taking your bad day out on me. Or perhaps it was you fucking storming out with no intention of actually trying to talk it through with me. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s for me having to sit up into the early hours of the morning having no idea where the fuck you are or what trouble you’re getting into, only to get a fucking call from a late night tattooist telling me that you’ve passed out on their table and they have no idea if you’re even still breathing.” Cas’ voice was significantly increasing in decibel the longer he talked, and Dean would swear that he’d never heard him speak so much in his life. Dean found himself flinching at all the ‘fucks’ that sounded so foreign coming from Cas’ mouth.

“A tattooist? Cas…”

“No, you don’t get to talk right now. You don’t even get to fucking cough. Do you have any idea what that was like. To turn up at that disease ridden place and to find you completely unresponsive. The fact that you got into such a vulnerable state and desecrated your body with all that poison in the first place and then went and did something so stupid and dangerous. And then to pass out. I had no idea if you’d been hurt by a monster or what the fuck had happened. You could have fucking died, Dean.”

At this point Cas had got so fraught his arms were waving wildly with each exclamation, his eyes wide with unshed tears.

As Dean opened his mouth Cas pounced again. “And don’t you dare even think about saying you’d be fine because you’ve got an angel of the lord watching over you, because honestly Dean you pull anything as fucking dangerous as this again and I’m gonna be gone. I can’t…” At that point Cas’ breath started to choke up in his throat. “I can’t go through that again.”

Oh. This wasn’t even about the fight then. Slowly Dean made his way over to Cas’, carefully following the old cliché of treating him like a wounded animal. Sliding his hand up Cas’ shoulder without a negative response, Dean pulled Cas in to a massive hug. The angel sank into it, shaking against Dean.

“Hey, hey, Cas I’m fine. I promise. I’m here, and I’m a little worse for wear, but nothing permanent. I love you, buddy. And I’m really sorry for being an ass in all the ways you described. I really am, I was awful, and I never meant to worry you like that.”

“I know.” Cas sniffled. “I wasn’t really angry, just…anxious. Just the thought of losing you was enough to get me like that.”

The angel seemed to come round a little at that. He was one resilient guy to be fair, a few hugs and Cas could take on pretty much anything. “I mostly forgave you last night anyway.”

“Last night?”

“Yeah, after I managed to rouse you and you stopped me from raising the tattoo parlour to the ground, you kept saying how sorry you were and that your tattoo was a symbol of how much you loved me, and how it was gonna make it all better. I mean, it was kinda slurred, but that was the general idea. I have to say that I don’t quite understand your logic but the gesture was sweet. I couldn’t really hold a grudge about your outbust after that. You were kind of cute.” Cas said as he looked up at Dean through his lashes.

Dean gawped for a good couple of seconds. With a sinking feeling, the slight pain Dean had been feeling in his lower back sprang to mind. “Tattoo. Hold on, you said tattoo. You said it earlier and now you’ve said it again.”

Cas regarded him seriously. “Yes, do you not have any recollection?”

“Obviously not.”

A look that was half pity and half unapologetic amusement sprang onto Cas’ face. “You might want to prepare yourself.”

Cas grabbed Dean’s hand, pulling him over to the mirror. Slowly Cas turned him around and Dean got to see the cellophane on his back, covering what could only be described as a tramp stamp. Dean Winchester had a tramp stamp. That in itself took a moment to comprehend. He couldn’t quite make out more than a black blob at that point, but oh god Dean Winchester had a tramp stamp.

“Come here, I need to change the dressing anyway.” Cas pressed a kiss against Dean’s forehead, before he set about gently pulling the cellophane from deans back, all the while still talking. “I managed to sterilize it, so there should be no chance of infection, but I have to let it heal at its own rate or I run the risk of smudging the design.”

“Dude, you could have just, you know, removed it?” Dean tried oh-so-hard not to make his voice sound sassy, but he was panicking just a little bit. I mean, come on, a tramp stamp!

The true extent of how fucked Dean truly was only became apparent once the design was revealed. In the grand cosmic joke that was Dean’s life, what else was it going to be. To be fair the actual font itself was beautiful, in any other setting maybe even classy, but when it’s spelling out ‘CALLIPYGIOUS’ that dangerously close to his backside, Dean wasn’t inclined to call it classy so much as horrifying. Cas somehow managed to keep in his snigger at the utterly appauled look on Dean’s goddamn face.

“There’s a substance in the ink they’re using, my grace has no effect on it.” No matter how ridiculous it sounded, Dean knew he wasn’t lying.

“I can tell you need a minute to process this, why don’t you lie down and I’ll fix another wrapping for it.” Dean allowed himself to be manhandled down onto his bed, brain not even computing that he was bucknaked and his bedroom door was still open.

Dean’s brain was working overtime, for once leaving him speechless. Although one question did pop into his head. “What do you think the chances are we can keep this from Sam?

“Very low, he’s already aware that you got a tattoo. Your declarations of love last night weren't reserved for me alone.”  
And funnily enough that was the moment Sam chose to walk by.

“Oh my God!” Sam’s voice boomed out from behind him “After all that talk last night, and the way you were hugging onto Cas like a limpet, I figured the whole tattoo thing was true. But wow I was not expecting it to look like that.” He rose his voice to a shout “Charlie you need to see this, get in here right now.”

All Dean could do was bury his head in his arms and listen to Cas gently saying “This is gonna hurt a bit.” Before he dove into dressing the ‘wound’.  
Charlie’s squeal of delight was particularly audible behind him. “Hold still, I need to send a picture of this to everyone.”

Thankfully, Dean’s boyfriend could actually show some compassion once in a while, as he obstructed Charlie’s view of Dean before ushering her out of the door.

There was an untold joy in Sam’s voice as he exclaimed “That’s basically like having juicy written above your ass you know. Dean Winchester has a juicy trampstamp!”

Dean also didn’t miss Charlie’s obnoxious voice exclaiming “Hey Benny, you’ll never in a million years guess what I’ve just seen!” before the door closed behind her and Sam.

Dean couldn’t help but wish that the bed would swallow him up whole. “What the Hell was I thinking?”

He was asking himself, rather than Cas, but that didn’t stop the angel from replying. “To quote you verbatim; ‘I just love you so much, man, more than anything ever. More than pie. And I need you to know that. Because you love my ass and I love you. This thing we’ve got, it’s forever, like this tattoo on my ass.’ That was right before you threw up on my shoes, mind you.”

The pillow was only capable of swallowing up a small portion of his groan. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s kinda romantic.” If Dean didn’t know any better he’d have thought Cas almost sounded sincere about that.

“I’m never touching booze again.” Dean muttered as another wave of nausea spun over his stomach.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Cas replied dryly.

“Do you really think it’s romantic?”

“I think it can be whatever we want it to be.”

“I do, you know?”

“Do what?”

“Love you.”

“Dean Winchester, you’re going soft in your old age. The true question is whether you love me more than pie.”

“Well I don’t have a tattoo of a pie do I?”

Cas’ chuckle from behind him made the tattoo feel slightly less of a catastrophe. And the way he rubbed his hand against Dean’s back and kissed his neck made everything seem slightly less like a bad nightmare. He might still basically have juicy stamped above his ass, but at least his boyfriend seemed to like it. Judging by the way Cas’ fingers lingered on Dean’s lower back, he had a feeling that even if he could figure out how to remove the tattoo, Cas wouldn’t let it happen without a fight.

****

Sleepy mornings meant the world to Castiel. For a being who technically didn’t need to sleep, he spent an awful lot of time lounging around on Dean’s bed. Whether it could be blamed on the fact that Dean drifting off to sleep provided prime cuddle time, or that Cas sometimes indulged himself in an occasional nap, or that he just loved to watch his little hunter sleep, nobody could say but him. And as Castiel kissed the back of Dean’s sleeping head it was clear that it was a secret he had no intention of divulging to anyone.

The sun crept through the cracks in the curtain, making glistening patterns along Dean’s delectable back. Castiel was laid on his side, head propped up on his hand so he could best admire the beauty that was his boyfriend. His fingers followed the fluttering rays of sunlight, taking his time tracing the muscles of Dean’s back. There was something magical about those first early moments of the day, the ones where everything was quiet and sleepy, and Cas could contemplate whatever he wanted and do things at his own pace for once. Which usually meant cuddling Dean.

This was why he liked them staying in his room once in a while. There was never anything quite as gorgeous as early morning sunlight, and he’d made sure to bag one of the few rooms in the bunker that could boast a window.

The muscles under his palm twitched a little, stretching a little as Dean let out a little hum before he nuzzled his head further into his pillow. Cas lightly brushed his fingers against Dean’s newly acquired tramp stamp (not that he’s allowed to call it that to his face) one last time before raising his attention to Dean’s face.

A flash of sunlight danced across Dean’s luscious lashes, bringing his freckles into sharp relief. A sense of contentment settled over him as he realized just how much he loved that man. It helped that Dean was especially adorable when he first woke up.

Dean voice was muffled by the pillow and sleepiness as he muttered “’ning cas. Sto’ starin’”.  
Castiel didn’t even try to keep the smile from his voice as he leaned his head forward just that little bit further, allowing him to plant a delicate (if sloppy) kiss on the tip of Dean’s freckled nose. “There’s my callipygian beauty!”

Cas got the briefest flash of burning emeralds as Deans eyes flickered open and he squinted up at him for a second. No matter how hard Dean tried, he was never able to keep up his grumpy façade when he was still waking up, if anything his grumpiness made him nothing short of adorable. As if to prove Cas’ point, the sleepy hunter shut his eyes again, the hand closest to Cas half-heartedly flipping the bird at Cas before Dean shifted up onto his side and immediately buried his head in Cas’ chest. He wrapped his arms around Cas in a hold so tight that only an angel could break it (and this angel definitely didn’t want that).

“W’ke m’ up in ‘uple o’ ‘ours.” Was all Dean could mutter before his breathing deapened, slipping back into sleep now that he’d ensured Cas couldn’t escape. Every so often as the invading light drifted further across the room, Dean head would nuzzle further against Cas’ chest, letting out a happy little sigh whenever the change in position shielded his eyelids effectively.

Cas had lived heaven, he’d been there since the beginning of time, he knew every last facet of it. But not even millennias spent in heaven could measure up to this feeling in this moment. Every second here with Dean curled round him, the hunter so clearly content and relaxed, and the proof of his undying love for Cas etched across his lower back was so much more than Heaven could ever have hoped to be. He held Dean even closer and pressed a loving kiss against his forehead, smiling as Dean grumbled in his sleep. This was everything. Cas took that moment, and every other moment of his life, to thank his lucky stars for the callipygian love of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to leave you here with four thoughts:
> 
> 1) If you like the 'poetry' (actually the first piece I've written in about 10 years) then you can read it in full on [Chapter 2 of Groovy Underwear](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2126214/chapters/17883388) or on [Tumblr](http://justlikedaylightsavingstime.tumblr.com/post/149768802111/smella-and-i-require-a-groovy-underwear-sequel)
> 
> 2) Deleted scene: Dean dancing to Taylor Swift in the daisy dukes that Cas bought him, substituting lyrics for 'my callipygian ass'. (You're welcome.)
> 
> 3) My tumblr is [justlikedaylightsavingstime](http://justlikedaylightsavingstime.tumblr.com) if you haven't got enough of my awful humor already.
> 
> 4) Thanks very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback of all kinds is wonderful *nudge nudge wink wink*


End file.
